Extra Lessons
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "'He wanted me to help you with these extra lessons.'" Extras, deleted scenes, and alternate endings to The Moments We Touch.
1. Alternate Ending: Discovery

Stein is climbing a hill on the edge of the city when Spirit catches him. He is heading to the forest and that is all Spirit needs to know; his ultimate purpose is something the weapon's mind shies away from, and it is unimportant at the moment anyway. He must be feeling some of the inexplicable connection burning in Spirit's mind, because he starts to turn well before he can possibly hear Spirit's approach.

At any other time, on any other day, Spirit would consider the flash of emotion on Stein's face as a victory, as a battle won in his incessant war on the meister's composure and corresponding distance. But there is no room in his head for that, so when Stein takes a step backwards in an unprecedented display of fear it barely registers in Spirit's mind. He closes the distance, keeps coming until he is well within Stein's comfort zone, until he is well within his _own_. The years of accumulated knowledge in his head tell him that their proximity will make Stein much more uncomfortable than he, that this is an advantage to him even though the meister's extra height gives him the edge in sheer physical intimidation.

Besides, the expression on Stein's face says that intimidation is the last thing on his mind right now. His body is stiff with what looks like fright, his weight rocked back on his heels like he's going to start running at any moment, and his eyes are startlingly wide with something that appears to be panic behind his glasses. Spirit has only seen the meister look like this once before, when Stein startled back from unexpected physical contact, and then it was so brief that he barely processed the reaction, but the image has been lurking in his memory and that is _exactly_ what Stein looks like now.

Spirit opens his mouth but there is simultaneously too much too say and nothing at all to say. For a moment his forward momentum flags and fails while he struggles for language, but then he rallies with the only possible thing he could say at this moment.

"What the FUCK, Stein?"

Stein blinks at the expletive but doesn't move or react otherwise. Now that the initial words are out, though, Spirit is rolling down the steep incline of righteous fury and devastated trust and he is not sure that anything can stop him.

"We are _partners_. I am supposed to be able to trust you. I _did_ trust you, I've trusted you for _years_, even when you didn't talk to me, even when you _ignored_ me, even when you destroyed things just because you _could_. I trusted you anyway, I thought I was the _exception_, I thought you _cared_ about me, and all this time you've been _experimenting_ on me?" He bites off the syllables, he is almost spitting every word, and his volume is rising and Stein's eyes are going wider but he can't slow down or regulate his volume at all. "I felt _sorry_ for you, I wanted to _help_ you. I felt bad for _abandoning_ you, I felt _guilty_ for caring about anyone else, as if you cared about _me_ at all."

Stein licks his lips. The motion screams uncertainty; Spirit almost doesn't recognize the emotion because it is so bizarre to see it on Stein's face. "Spirit -"

"Don't you _dare_." Spirit is not sure he has ever been really, properly angry before, but the emotion is raging through his body now and there is no pulling it back. Part of his mind is cringing in fear, and he is fairly sure he will regret his words and his actions later, but most of him is right there with the fury, screaming into his meister's wide-eyed fear. "I have done _everything_ I can to help you. I have been there for you for fucking _years_. I have cared when _no one else did_, and you've been -" He can't say it again, can't meet Stein's gaze even though he knows it's backing down to look away, and when he breaks eye contact he realizes he is crying and doesn't know when he started.

"I have -" Stein starts again. Spirit turns back to him, steps so close that his foot comes between Stein's and that their hips are pressed together, so close that when he angles his head up to look at Stein he can feel the meister's too-fast breathing against his mouth, and he reaches up to grab a handful of Stein's coat and hold him where he is.

"Did you even care _at all_?"

Stein's face is awash in panic and fright, but that slides away at Spirit's words and the weapon can see the meister's face collapse into total, agonized pain. He looks at Spirit like the older boy has just stabbed him, like he is about to cry. He takes in a breath around a sob and as close as he is Spirit can hear the tears in the sound, can see the meister's lip tremble with barely-held emotion.

Stein's hand comes up to shove against Spirit's chest, the force hard enough that it sends waves of pain through the bruised cuts the meister has inflicted on him, and then his fingers tighten into a fist around the loose fabric of Spirit's shirt and he pulls, and Spirit tips forward, just barely, just until he catches his balance, but they are _very_ close, and the movement crushes Spirit's mouth and teeth against Stein's lips.

Stein sighs against him, the sound purring with the satisfaction of fulfilled anticipation, and for a moment Spirit is frozen in place by shock and unexpected pleasure and _confusion_, and then he remembers that he is _angry_ and he shoves Stein away hard. The meister stumbles backwards as his fingers release Spirit's shirt; he only barely keeps from falling.

"What -" Spirit tries to call up the rage of a moment ago, but Stein has stolen that from him, pulled his feet out from under him and destroyed his expectations and now he's lost in the breathtaking clarity of the moment. That in and of itself is enough to lend fuel to his fast-fading ire, though. He sets his mouth in a firm line, straightens his shoulders, recenters himself over his feet. "_What_ are you doing?"

Stein's hand is at his mouth. His eyes are shut. His face is the closest to peace that Spirit has ever seen it, the tension of restraint gone so he looks his age for the first time the weapon has ever seen. Spirit can see him suck in a breath, can see the ragged edges to the exhale when it comes, and then the meister opens his eyes. The very motion of his eyelids is languid, slow and satisfied, and it is nothing to the expression in the green of his eyes. Stein looks at Spirit like the weapon is an object or a tool or death itself and there is nothing in his face but raw _desire_, the way that someone craves ownership and possession of an inanimate thing.

Spirit's newfound rage roars in him at the implication in that expression even while his blood fires in response to it. He is moving before he has thought his actions through, coming back in to Stein's space, seething and flushed in equal parts.

"How _dare_ you," he manages to get out before his hands ground themselves in Stein hair and he pulls the meister's mouth to his. He's not quite in control of his body, but his mouth seems to know what to do and for a minute there is just the aggression of teeth and tongue on Stein's surrendering mouth. There is some vague idea in Spirit's mind to reclaim his agency, to prove that _he_ is the active party here, but the heat rising in him is rapidly outweighing all other concerns. Then he pushes too hard or bites a little too much and tears Stein's skin and the taste of copper fills his mouth, and he pulls Stein's head back by the hands in his hair and tries to recollect himself. But Stein bends backward, lets himself be forced away, and his hands are clinging to Spirit's arms like he can't stand up on his own and his neck is a smooth curve so Spirit can _see_ the half-panicked pattern of his breath and that's it for the weapon's rational side. Rage and desire crush into a single sensation, impossible to distinguish, and his hands are against Stein's waist and pulling at the meister's hair and his mouth is on Stein's throat and jawline and mouth and Stein's skin tastes like tears and blood and Spirit's vision goes hazy as his focus shatters into pure physicality.


	2. Alternate Ending: Force

Stein feels Spirit coming.

When he thinks back on this later, he doesn't know how to explain what happened the moment before he turns to face the oncoming weapon. It's like the sensation of someone's eyes on his skin, not something he can quantify but which he feels like something physical anyway. When he sees Spirit's face, the question of how he knew the older boy was approaching becomes entirely secondary to the _fear_.

Fear is a new emotion for Stein. He hasn't started feeling it until very recently, and even then it has been an emotional terror, the anticipated horror of impending loss. This is like the visceral fear that Spirit experiences during a fight but with none of the clinical distance that the Resonance grants to the meister. It is cold and it is crippling; the adrenaline in his veins locks Stein in place the way that it did when he nursed Spirit's fever in Germany, but with the addition of a raw animal terror for his own survival that overtakes his body without his permission.

It is not that Spirit is particularly physically imposing; even as he closes with Stein he lacks the height to loom over the meister, and his musculature tends towards slender rather than brawny, as Stein knows intimately. But there is something in his eyes and in the set of his jaw that Stein has never seen there before. He thought he was missing some crucial component of basic animal instinct. It turns out his instinct had just never met anything bigger than it before.

His newfound fear drags his feet backward in an attempt to run, but he only makes it a step before the desire to freeze stops him cold, and then there is nothing to do but wait for Spirit to reach him.

The weapon steps far, far too close. If this were any other time Stein would be sucking in air like he was drowning, breathing in the heat radiating off the older boy, locking the memory of Spirit's proximity into his mind for future reference, but his heart is racing and he thinks he's probably hyperventilating with terror and there is no space left in him even to appreciate the relative excess of pale skin Spirit's half-done shirt exposes.

And the red cuts across that skin. Understanding clicks in Stein's mind with a sensation he is _sure_ must be audible just before Spirit starts talking.

"What the FUCK, Stein?"

The question is rhetorical, which is for the best because Stein is just realizing that he has never really thought through a defense for when Spirit finds out what he has been doing to the weapon. Spirit talks over any response he could make and there is nothing in Stein's head as an excuse, just the sickening horror at the knowledge that this is it, that there is no more running and no more dodging this issue, that they are going to have this argument right _here_, right _now_, and he is not ready. He is not sure that he would _ever_ be ready for this, but this is all wrong, too soon and too fast and he is too frightened and Spirit too angry, and the weapon is yelling at him and he's not even listening, he can't even understand the words beyond the betrayed pain that laces the tone. The denotation doesn't matter anyway; the emotion of them is humming in his own mind like he is a tuning fork for Spirit's furious hurt, he doesn't need the inadequacies of language to give him a framework when the meaning is bypassing his mind and going straight into his veins.

It is overwhelming in a way that entirely redefines the word, that outstrips previous experiences so entirely that Stein can't recall why anything that came before was so frightening, seemed so intense, when now he can't breathe except in time with Spirit's half-sobbed words and his heart can't beat without the weapon's permission. When Spirit stops to suck in air, Stein tries to speak although he still doesn't know what to say. He's not certain he can handle more escalation, not sure what will happen if Spirit goes on. He thinks he might kiss his partner and he's afraid he may hurt him, and he lost control of this situation months ago but is only now realizing the breadth of his error, the extreme miscalculation when he thought this was his doing.

"Spirit," he starts, but the older boy cuts him off before he can continue.

"Don't you _dare_." Stein has never realized before that Spirit's eyes are always warm, that the weapon is always on the verge of forgiveness before Stein even decides on an action. It is only in the absence of that constant comfort that Stein recognizes it was there at all. "I have done _everything_ I can to help you. I have been there for you for fucking _years_." Stein can't look away from the cold rage in that blue. It is horrifying and frightening and some part of him is rising to the challenge, whether to fight or capitulate he's not sure, and now there is pain under the rage too, a bottomless well of agony that Stein echoes back across with interest, and he really can't breathe at all now and is a little worried he may pass out. "I have cared when _no one else did_, and you've been -"

Spirit cuts off, looks away as the misery tears its way to the surface past the top layer of frustration. Stein lost control of this, of himself and the situation and his partner, an infinitely long time ago, but he can feel _something_ rising in his blood and he knows that there is no way to stop it now but he has to try, like the desperate attempt during a fall to stumble back to center when balance is already long gone.

"I haven't -" he starts, and the denial is futile because of course he _has_, but he needs to _explain_, somehow, that he didn't _mean_ what Spirit is taking away from this, that he didn't mean to hurt the weapon even though of course any thought makes it stunningly obvious that it would, that he has _cared_ and _burned_ and _agonized_ about Spirit and that it was all a _mistake_, a horrible error caused by his own lost heart and fevered blood, and won't Spirit _forgive_ him?

But Spirit steps in closer when Stein didn't think he could, and he seizes the front of Stein's coat and for a wild moment Stein thinks the weapon is going to kiss him although that seems contextually impossible. Excitement and insane hope and frantic panic are smothering Stein, he can't breathe with Spirit this close, he can't _think_ and he can't _breathe_, and then Spirit hisses into his face, "Did you even care _at all_?"

The panic hits the rush of affirmation that surges through him, and Stein's throat closes up and he _can't_ say what he _has_ to say, there is _too much_, and the pound of absolute need crushes his frozen fear but sweeps away his ability to speak as well, and there is a tremblingly long moment of agony as Stein's head fills with feelings that his body can't express and Spirit stares at him with the cold judgment in his eyes. He needs _space_, he needs to _tell_ Spirit, and the two desires smash hard into each other and suddenly he can move again.

His hand comes up and crushes against the hot skin of Spirit's chest, and then his fingers tighten to grip a fistful of the half-buttoned shirt and the flaring emotions in his blood pull at the muscles of his arm and tug Spirit forward to span the centimeters of distance between them.

The weapon's mouth lands on Stein's, and their lips are out of alignment and Spirit's teeth hit Stein's lower lip with bruising force, and the older boy goes utterly still with shock instead of responding, and it is perfect and thrilling and all the tension in Stein's body and mind goes slack with blind satisfaction.

He is stumbling backward before he can process what has happened, his balance careening under him while his mind refuses to let go of the impression of Spirit's mouth and skin and breath against his. He should open his eyes, that would help, but he can't regain control over his body and vision is unimportant with the fading afterimages of kissing Spirit imprinted on his skin and his mind, so he lets the ground skid under him until he finds his feet and his balance again.

"What -" Spirit's voice interrupts the echoing silence of shocked satisfaction in Stein's head. "_What_ are you doing?"

Stein's awareness is carefully fitting itself back inside his skin, creeping back into his hands and face and thoughts. His fingers are pressed to his lips, forcing the texture of Spirit back into his skin as if he can hold it there indefinitely. He gasps in air that he has forgotten to breathe, lets it out of lungs that have forgotten how to operate and stutters over the process. When he opens his eyes, he isn't ready for vision but he isn't able to _keep_ from looking at Spirit, and he drags his eyes against Spirit's hair and cheekbones and lips like his gaze has a tangible presence. From the way Spirit flushes, the weapon is suffering from the same misconception.

Spirit swallows hard, red rising to his cheeks and anger turning the blue in his eyes cold and sharp, and then he is stepping forward, back into the personal space that he has already shattered. Stein would be irritated by the invasion if there were any part of him that wasn't aching for the weapon, but there isn't so he's not.

"How _dare_ you," Spirit spits at him, but the ire in the words is critically undermined by the hands that tangle into Stein's hair and the way his mouth crushes into the meister's on the last word. Stein lets Spirit drag his head down, lets the fingers against his scalp guide him entirely, lets the static in his mind and the angry jealousy in his blood drown into silence beneath the flood of pleasure that suffuses his veins. Spirit is _hurting_ him, all teeth and pressure and force, and Stein _likes_ it. The desire in his body can't find its own expression but it purrs in recognition at the painful pleasure that Spirit is dragging from his nerves, and Stein doesn't even realize that Spirit has broken the skin of his lip until he recognizes the taste of blood on the weapon's mouth. When the older boy pulls Stein back he lets himself go, and even though his body is keening for more there is a pleasure to the yielding too, a relief in giving himself over to Spirit's direction. His hands are clutching at Spirit's arms, trying to retain his balance and his sense of self, but gravity isn't important anymore with Spirit's hands on him and Spirit's warmth suffusing him, and when the weapon closes the distance between them again with a whimper that is more than half-frustrated and all aggressive desire Stein shuts his eyes again and lets his self turn off.


	3. Alternate Ending: Confrontation

Spirit goes entirely still, hands still clenched in Stein's jacket but fury forgotten. Stein can _see_ the rage melt out of his face, and what is left behind is a focused adult concentration that he has never seen in his weapon's expression before. His eyes narrow, his voice drops low, and when he says "_What_?" the word is as forboding as a single syllable can be.

Stein knows he should answer. He has been deliberately toying with Spirit, raking his emotions as thoroughly as he knows how, and that _tone_ says that if he doesn't answer immediately the weapon can't be held responsible for his actions. But Spirit being angry doesn't mean that Stein is, and while Spirit has been shaking him Stein has gone limp so he won't act on the rising _need_ to bridge the inches between them, and now Spirit has stopped and they are _so close_ and Stein doubts that Spirit even _realizes_, that he has any idea what he's doing to Stein's heartrate.

He is taking his life in his hands but Stein's never been very good at self-preservation in the face of, well, Spirit.

He moves his head first, just tips it forward so he's not looking at the ceiling anymore, and he's shifting in before he's even looked at Spirit's face because that red hair is like a magnet and there's really not much distance to cover. Spirit's face is still locked into professional focus when Stein's lips meet his; Stein can feel the tension firming Spirit's mouth into a hard line and it speaks to the weapon's single-minded attention that it takes him as long as it does to realize what's happening.

Of course, when he does his hands go slack on Stein's coat, but the meister was ready for that, his body as perfectly attuned to Spirit's as ever, and his fingers tighten against Spirit's jacket as he takes his own weight again. Spirit rocks backward, makes a sound in the back of his throat that might be a word but Stein doesn't hear it, just swallows it against his tongue, and then he has to shut his eyes because this close the shadows of Spirit's eyelashes are ridiculously distracting. But then his eyes are shut and his focus shifts to tactile sensation instead of visual and if he thought Spirit's _eyes_ were distracting they are _nothing_ on Spirit's mouth. Surprise has softened the weapon's expression, parted his lips just slightly, and he tastes like _coffee_ and Stein can feel his breathing speeding fast and oh god Stein hasn't breathed in several seconds, he is going lightheaded with lack of oxygen and excess of Spirit and he makes himself pull away, consciously forces his lungs to work once, twice.

He doesn't open his eyes until his head is clear, or at least as clear as it can be under the circumstances. Spirit is staring at him in the most perfect example of shock that Stein has ever seen, entirely unaffected by any compounding emotions, and his hands are still clinging to Stein's coat as if he has forgotten they're there and he is blushing red, red, red.

Stein straightens his thoughts, looks at Spirit's cheeks instead of his lips or his hair, and then answers the question.

"The Demon Sword is back." When Spirit doesn't speak he goes on. "It showed back up in Italy, along with another soul wavelength, probably a meister wielding it. Lord Death wants us to go out and deal with it."

Spirit blinks. His hands tighten their hold. His mouth opens, shuts. He swallows visibly.

"What?" It's not focused this time, but faint and lost.

"Spirit." Spirit's eyes flicker to Stein's mouth and away. His blush deepens but Stein's fairly sure _he's_ blushing too. "It's in _Italy_."

He hates to distract the weapon but time is of the essence. It hurts a little, to watch the flush on Spirit's cheeks drain away to panicked white, to see the blurred confusion in his eyes harden into panic, and when he says, "Maka" his voice is back to Death-Scythe focus.

Stein lets him go, releases his hold on the black jacket a moment after Spirit reclaims his own hands. He's waited fourteen years. He can wait a little longer.


	4. Deleted Scene: Talking

Marie is not the person Spirit is hoping to run into. He's been wandering around the Academy for near an hour, thinking unformed thoughts about closets and dark corners and the taste of Stein's mouth, and he knows perfectly well the meister is teaching a class but hope springs eternal and often illogical, and the _possibility_ remains as long as he doesn't head back to his apartment yet. All the classes are full of students, which leaves the hallways empty and perfect for pining, and when Spirit comes around a corner and sees Marie it takes him a minute to process the scene.

"Oh," he says first, "Hey Marie." His mind kicks into overdrive, scrambling for an invented appointment, a lunch date, a Death Scythe meeting, anything to avoid the awkwardness of making small talk while avoiding the 'so our mutual meister was in love with me the whole time he was partners with you and you were in love with him and now I'm sleeping with him' elephant in the room.

Then he sees her face, the blank way she's staring into the distance, and empathy entirely overrides his personal discomfort with the situation so for a minute she's just Marie and he's just Spirit and he is _worried_.

"Marie." He steps in but she doesn't react, just keeps gazing off into the distance. She's biting her lip too, he can see now, tearing at it with her teeth absently. "Marie, you okay?"

She jumps then, like she's only just hearing him, and turns to stare at him with no sign of recognition for a minute. Then she steps back, brushes her hair behind her ear with one hand, and tries to pull a smile up. She hasn't let go of her lip yet, so it tugs strangely before it comes, and even then it doesn't reach her eye at all. "Oh. Hey Spirit!"

Her voice is too high and too bubbly, like she's doing an impression of herself, and her uncovered eye isn't quite focused on Spirit's face.

"Hey Marie," Spirit repeats himself. "Are - you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be okay?" She brushes her hair back behind her ear again, twists her hands together in front of her. "I'm _fine_."

"You just - look a little stressed."

"Nope!" She shakes her head and her hair falls free in front of her face again. "I'm _just_ fine, I -"

She stops. Her forced smile drops into a trembling lower lip and she twists her hands together so hard Spirit cringes in sympathetic pain. Then she looks down at the same, and when she speaks again her voice is low and so quiet Spirit can barely hear her.

"Actually. You know how I moved into my own place a week ago?"

Spirit does. "Yes?"

"Uh. I finished packing up the last of my stuff from Azusa's yesterday to take over."

Marie sounds like she's confessing to a murder, from how hesitant her words are coming. Spirit can feel his face twisting in confusion. "Good?"

"Before I left, just as I was finishing, I -" She takes a breath like she's about to plunge underwater and says the next sentence fast, like it's all one word. "Azusa kissed me."

Spirit's eyebrows go up to his hairline and he rocks back on his heels like the shock is a physical blow. "_Oh_."

"Yeah." Marie is staring down at her hands so her face in hidden behind her hair and she sounds a little like she's on the verge of tears. "I don't know what to do, I mean I had no idea she - felt that way. Did you?"

"I -" Spirit is about to say 'had no idea,' but a lot of conversations are making a lot more sense in retrospect, with this piece of information. "Probably should have guessed, actually. That - wow, that -"

"Yeah," Marie says quietly, like he's actually said something worthwhile. "I just don't know what to _do_ now, and no one _knew_ and I can't _talk_ to her and I - how did I not _realize_?"

"She probably didn't want you to know," Spirit says in his best attempt at soothing. When he steps forward Marie doesn't move away, and when he wraps his arms around her shoulders she hugs him back. It's weird to have physical contact be so easy. Sometimes Spirit forgets that not everyone is Stein, where every touch is loaded with meaning, or Maka, who shies back like he's infected with some horrible disease. Marie just leans into the hug, sighs against his shirt, and he can feel some of the tension bleed out from her shoulders.

"Thanks," she says against his shirt. "I just feel like everything has gotten really complicated in the last few weeks and I don't really have anyone to talk to. About anything."

Spirit laughs. "Yeah, I can understand that. Funny how the Kishin was defeated and everything got _more_ complicated."

Marie laughs too, and this sounds genuine like her earlier assumed cheer wasn't. "Yeah." She sighs and steps back before running a hand through her hair in a doomed attempt to control it. "Sorry for telling you all that. I really don't have anyone else to talk to. Except Stein, I guess, but that would be super weird for me even if he wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, that - I can see how that would be awkward. Wow. I am really sorry, that - that sucks."

"Yeah," Marie agrees, but when she smiles it looks a little more sincere. "Thanks, Spirit."

"No problem."

Marie turns to go and Spirit speaks before he can call it back. "Hey, Marie." She stops and glances back over her shoulder. "I, uh - I'm no Azusa, but if you need someone to talk to just say the word." He shrugs. "I'm a pretty good listener."

When Marie smiles it's like all the lights in the room get a little bit brighter. "I will. Thanks." She pushes at her hair again, looks away from Spirit's face. "Good luck. With Stein, I mean. I think - I think you're really good for him."

"Oh." Spirit's face goes hot and he can't control the half-shy half-pleased smile that curves his mouth. "Uh. Thanks."

The other weapon is still smiling, the brightness reaching the gold in her eye this time when she glances back. "You're welcome."


	5. Deleted Scene: Drunk

It is not that coming home to an empty house is entirely unprecedented. After all, Spirit has the habits from years of living alone to fall back on. It's just that he's expecting Stein at the lab when he gets there, and it is a little strange to come in the door to the utter silence of an empty building.

"Stein?" Spirit calls, just for good measure, but he doesn't wait for any sort of an answer. The lab is half-lit as usual, but when he comes down the hallway to the kitchen there's a note dropped in the middle of the counter, and when he picks it up it just says "At Azusa's with whiskey" in Stein's sharp-edged handwriting.

"Huh," Spirit says aloud. He hadn't really expected Stein to take his recommendation so seriously when he mentioned the conversation he had with Marie earlier in the day, hadn't even realized Stein was really _listening_. The consideration is kind of weirdly charming; Spirit can't remember Stein ever showing any sort of deliberate empathy for anyone other than himself. Then he realizes he's smiling stupidly at a note, and immediately after realizes the implications of the last part of the explanation.

"Did he -" Spirit comes around the counter to open the door to the unofficial alcohol cabinet and breathes a sigh of relief when his scotch, at least, is intact. "Oh good."

He amuses himself for a few hours; he doesn't know when exactly Stein left, and he might reasonably spend the early part of the evening at Azusa's. But then the sun is fully set, and it is not that Spirit thinks Stein can't take care of himself but he is lonely and faintly worried, because how on _earth_ are Stein and Azusa not _killing_ each other, Azusa likes Stein even less than she likes _Spirit_, and he doesn't last fifteen minutes after that before he is pulling his coat back on and going out in search of his meister.

The apartment is lit up when he gets there, but there is no answer when he knocks or rings the doorbell, even on a second and third attempt, and he can _hear_ voices inside. Eventually he tries the door, which turns out to be unlocked, and with the door open the voices turn out to be primarily laughter.

Giggles, actually. Spirit is getting _really_ worried now because that _can't_ be Azusa, has someone broken into her _house_?

"Hello?" he calls, stalled in the front door.

"Spirit!"

That _is_ Stein's voice, Spirit would know it _anywhere_, but it is _high_ and _cheerful_ and is he _slurring_?

"Stein?" Spirit comes in fully, pushes the door shut behind him before tentatively approaching. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fi-ine."

"We're _both_ fine," another voice chimes in, and Spirit has to come around the corner to believe that is _Azusa_. Then he sees the crossbow and his meister and has to just...stop, stop and blink and wait until he's sure he's not hallucinating.

Stein is on the _floor_, stretched out so he is taking up the entire available floor space in Azusa's dining room, a half-empty bottle of whiskey upright in one hand and the other stretched out to the side. He is blinking at the ceiling through his glasses, but at least he has _kept_ his. Azusa is also on the floor, perpendicular to the meister, with her _head_ on his _stomach_, and her glasses are gone and the buttons on her outer shirt are only half-done. Her hair is as ruffled as Spirit has ever seen it, and as he watches she brings a hand up to drag through it.

"Hiya Spirit," she manages. She's _never_ called him anything but Death Scythe that he's heard. "We're bemoaning the obliviousness of weapons. And our own stupidity in waiting for them."

"_Your_ stupidity," Stein clarifies. "It worked out _really_ well for me."

Spirit can feel his mouth hanging open but he can't close it, feels like he might be about to burst into laughter or drop bonelessly to the floor in shock. "Are you two _drunk_?"

"Yep," Azusa chirps. "On your whiskey. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Yeah, I saw that."

Stein tips his head to smile at Spirit, and the scythe makes a mental note to get Stein drunk more _often_ if he's going to look at him like that. "_Really_ well," he says to himself, and Azusa groans.

"Not for _me_. At least I got a _friend_ out of it. Not anymore. _Why_ did I kiss her, I ruined _everything_." She casts her arm dramatically over her face and Spirit _does_ laugh before he can help himself, snorts and claps his hand over his mouth.

Then he takes in the lack of liquid in the bottle and the state of the two most composed people he has ever known, and his eyebrows go up to his hairline.

"Oh my god. Did you drink _all_ of that _alone_?"

"Yep," Azusa says from behind her arm. Stein is squinting at the light overhead like it holds the secrets to the universe and doesn't answer, but Azusa's affirmative is enough.

"You are both going to _die_, my god," Spirit manages. "I'm going to call an _ambulance_."

"No."

Stein's voice is perfectly clear as he holds up a hand to stop Spirit. The scythe stops in his tracks - Stein _sounded_ rational just then, maybe he's not as drunk as he seems. The room hangs in breathless anticipation for a moment.

"I'm a _doctor_."

Azusa dissolves into giggles, curls sideways on herself, and Stein starts to laugh too, his whole face falling into amusement. Spirit stares at the two of them for a moment without moving. Then he throws his hands in the air and pivots to leave.

"_Fine_. If you die you _deserve_ it for that." He storms down the hall to the front door, very nearly leaves, but pauses with the door open.

"Don't die!" he shouts down the hallway.

"We won't!" Stein calls back.

Spirit waits until he's outside the apartment to collapse into hysterical laughter.


	6. Extra Scene: Expose

Maka throws the apartment door open so hard it bounces back from the wall and would hit her in the face if she didn't catch the handle as it comes back. The impact of the door against the wall and the handle against her palm helps take off the leading edge of her frustration. A little.

"_Soul_!" Her voice has gone shrill as it always does when she is overemotional. She hates it but there is no way she can modulate it, not _now_, not when she has _this_ news. "Soul, where _are_ you?"

"I'm in here, Maka." The weapon's voice comes from the living room. Maka throws the front door shut - it slams satisfyingly into place - and storms around the corner. Soul is lying on the couch watching TV; he tips his head back to look at her upside-down as she rounds the corner. "What's got you all worked up?"

"You will _never_ believe what Papa just told me." That high whine is still there, but it's hard to yell at Soul when he sounds so calm, and the steady attention in his eyes helps calm her. "You know he hasn't been going to ChupaCabra's recently."

"Sure. Is that why you're upset? I thought you'd be happy."

Maka throws her hands in the air. "I _am_! I _was_! Do you know _why_ he hasn't been going?" She crosses her arms and goes on before Soul has a chance to answer. "He's seeing someone. _Seriously_."

"That makes sense."

Soul is nothing like as surprised as he should be. Maka sighs. "Guess _who_ he's seeing."

"Professor Stein."

Maka's mouth drops open. She makes no effort to close it. Her attention is tied up trying to process what Soul has said in conjunction with how calm he still looks. "_What_? How did you _know_?" He _must_ have known, there is no _way_ he would have randomly guessed correctly. "Did Papa tell _you_ before he told me?"

"Of course not." Soul blinks up at her, voice the same lazy drawl as always. "Your old man hates me, you know that."

"Did Professor _Stein_ tell you?"

"Why would he?"

"Then how did you _know_?" She sounds petulant, but she was expecting at _least_ the satisfaction of Soul's surprise to offset her own shock and this lack of reaction is _extremely_ frustrating.

Soul laughs and looks back at the TV. "It's been totally obvious this whole time."

Maka growls in frustration and stomps to the TV to turn off the power. When she turns to face Soul he is sitting up, starting to protest, but she cuts him off. "No it _hasn't_, what are you _talking_ about?"

"Did you really not see it? Stein's basically been pining for your dad since he started teaching at the Academy. I'm not sure how long it's been reciprocated but it's been a while. I'm actually surprised it took them this long to put things together."

Maka's legs can't hold her weight. She drops to the floor, still staring at Soul. Her weapon takes in her continuing confusion, sighs, and goes on. His tone implies that he is explaining that the sky is blue.

"Stein went all dreamy about your dad that very first time we fought him, don't you remember? And they were both making eyes at each other at the anniversary party." He shrugs. "It's been right there this whole time. You didn't notice _anything_?"

Maka is still gaping at him, frustration giving way to total confusion. Soul laughs, leans back into the couch. "You really are oblivious. Did your old man have to _tell_ you?"

Maka looks away and grimaces. "Just because _you're_ so observant doesn't make _me_ oblivious."

"Dude, even Black*Star knew."

"_What_?"

"Yeah. He was pretty late to pick up on the details, after Tsubaki and Kid and the Thompsons, but I think Kid had an inside line on the situation. Lord Death's been pretty enthusiastic about the two of them since Stein came back. Guess it's kind of like a soap opera for him, which brings up some creepy implications but -"

"Why didn't anyone _tell_ me?"

Soul sighs. "We thought you _knew_ and didn't want to talk about it. You always say you hate your dad, Maka, it's not a particularly good conversational topic with you."

"But...Papa was married to Mama, doesn't he like _girls_?"

Soul shrugs again. "Why can't he like both? It's kind of a silly distinction anyway." He sounds like he is on the verge of laughter.

"But!" She's wailing now, reaching for straws, but she can't stop the whine of her own voice. "But Professor Stein should have better _taste_!"

Soul does laugh then, genuine amusement bubbling up his throat. "Just because _you've_ decided you hate your dad doesn't mean everyone else does. They were partners when they were kids, you know how that usually turns out." He looks away from her, lies back down to watch the ceiling. "And I know you won't like to hear this, but your dad's pretty hot for a guy."

"_What_."

"I told you you wouldn't like to hear it." Soul glances at her, looks away. "Not _my_ type, sure, but he's pretty clearly to Professor Stein's taste. I've never seen the Professor look at anyone the way he looks at your dad."

Maka reaches for words, finds none, settles for whimpering. Soul smiles up at the ceiling without turning her way. "Sorry we didn't mention it. I think everyone thought you just didn't want to talk about it."

"Have you all been gossiping about my _dad_ and _Professor Stein_?" It's not angry, just lost and confused.

Soul shrugs one-shouldered, smirks at the ceiling. "Not _always_, but it _is_ kind of cute." he looks at her sideways again. "You really are totally blind if you didn't see anything."

"Shut up," Maka mumbles. She can feel herself blushing, she _hates_ blushing in front of Soul.

Her partner goes on. "I'm a little relieved, though. I thought you just weren't interested in me, but if you missed this maybe you just haven't noticed."

Maka's eyebrows draw down over her eyes as she tries to parse this piece of nonsense. "Huh?"

Soul glances at her again, looks away as fast. When he speaks again he is half-smiling and there is a hint of color under his tanned skin. "Lucky me, I guess."

He swings sideways and up to his feet, slouching back as he looks down at her. "You know now, at least. Try to be happy for them. Sounds like it's been pretty good for your dad, if he's stopped going to that club."

"Wait. Don't change the subject, what were you talking about?"

"Your dad and his _boyfriend_."

Maka flushes with embarrassment. "Don't _call_ him that!"

"Why not?" Soul is grinning now, all sharp teeth and lopsided smile in the way that brings all the blood rushing to the surface of Maka's skin. "That's what they _are_. I guess I could call him _Stein's_ boyfriend if you'd rather."

Maka groans in frustration, gets to her feet and storms into her bedroom where she can shut out Soul's smirk and laugh behind the door. She doesn't think about what he had said or how he dodged her question until the door is shut, and by then she can't go back out to demand an answer.


	7. Extra Scene: Screw

"What does it _do_?"

Spirit is speaking softly in deference to Stein's current state, which is as close to asleep as the weapon ever sees him. Stein's head is in Spirit's lap, arms linked loosely around his waist, and his eyes are shut while he hums at Spirit's fingers sliding through his hair. At this angle Spirit can see the scarring patterning the base of the screw through Stein's head, can run his fingers across the metal warmed to just below normal body heat by Stein's blood.

"Clears my thoughts," Stein says without opening his eyes.

"How, though?" Spirit runs one finger down the groove in the middle of the screw itself while his other hand combs through the meister's shaggy silver hair.

"Hm," Stein offers in reaction to the hand in his hair, smiling at the contact. "It resets everything. Jumbles up the thought patterns I'm stuck on so I can refocus."

"I never see you turn it anymore." Spirit's voice is very soft.

Stein's response is just as steady and quiet. "I don't need to reset as much."

Spirit knows what the answer will be, but he asks anyway. 'Why?"

Stein opens one eye to look up at Spirit and raises an eyebrow. "Why do you think?"

Spirit smiles in admission of the hit and goes back to playing with Stein's hair. The meister closes his eye again, humming occasionally. At the angle he is across Spirit's lap it feels a little like he's purring with the sound.

Eventually Spirit's curiosity gets the better of him and he speaks again. "What did you _do_, though? Or _how_?"

Stein smiles without opening his eyes before sighing, and when he speaks his voice has taken on the undertones of a lecture. "It was right after. When I thought I had killed you." He sounds perfectly, oddly calm, given the subject, but his hold on Spirit goes tighter for a minute. "I couldn't - I couldn't think about anything else. My Madness was worse too, as bad as it's ever been until the Kishin's revival. I had to lock myself in the lab; I'm not sure what I would have done if I was loose. I did some damage to myself before I thought of the solution." He lets go to touch the end of the screw to clarify but keeps talking. "I understand there was a significant of my blood across the lab when the first person - Marie - found me." He sounds calm, still, but Spirit's hands have gone still and he's glad Stein's not looking at him because he doesn't know what sort of appalled horror is across his face.

The meister goes on, like he's explaining a perfectly reasonable next step. "Once I had the idea for the screw it was a matter of sketching out the design and confirming that the hypothesis was solid. That took some time but I don't think I slept at all until after Marie arrived, so it was probably less than a day of design." He shrugs one-shouldered, still with his eyes shut. "I had completed the surgery by the time she came in."

"But _how_ did you manage it?" Spirit's voice is low and shocked but he can't regulate it, and Stein doesn't react to the tone at all.

"Sufficient preparation and a lack of concern for survivability."

Spirit flinches, pulls Stein's head in close against his chest and curls over the meister before he can make himself relax his protective pose. "_God_, Stein, I can't -" He can't finish his sentence, isn't sure what he wants to say.

Stein rolls onto his back and opens his eyes to blink up at the weapon's face. He smiles gently, reaches up to brush Spirit's cheek with his fingertips. "I thought I had _killed_ you, Spirit. I didn't know until Marie told me that you were going to _live_. It was the best solution at the time; I either attempted the surgery, possibly dying in the process, or stayed as I was without you and lost myself to Madness."

"I'm -" Stein is brushing away tears, Spirit realizes. He hadn't even known he was crying. "I'm not that _important_, Stein."

"To me you are." Stein says it like it's an explanation for everything. "You always have been." He smiles wider, bright and sharp for a moment. "I gather most people don't trust in others for their sanity, but I've never deluded myself into thinking I was most people."

Spirit laughs at that, even if the sound is damp and shaky. "No, you're not." He leans back, tries to let the pointless past-tense panic ease from between his shoulderblades. "I had no idea. I thought you were _fine_."

"I don't know who would have told you otherwise." Stein turns sideways again and shuts his eyes once more. "We were valuable students, even separated. Lord Death wanted to keep you stable and the best way to do that was to not tell you about me."

"He should have!" Spirit starts, but Stein cuts him off by sliding his fingers up along the weapon's spine.

"He didn't. And you were fine."

"_You_ weren't."

"I was eventually. I am now." Stein smiles again, comes forward to kiss Spirit's stomach, and the weapon can't really argue with that.

There is another pause before Spirit speaks again, carefully calm this time and deliberately shifting the subject. "So it - resets your thoughts?"

"Yes. Usually when I needed to focus on the present and not the past. You were more of a distraction when you _weren't_ there than when you were."

Spirit curls his fingers around the end of the screw, tries to imagine adult Stein without it, without the curving stitches across his face. For a moment he has it, childhood memories aged up, but then the image vanishes under the weight of reality. He's not even sure it's a loss, the hypothetical undamaged Stein instead of the actual one, marked with scars and weighted with history like Spirit himself is. At least they match, this way.

"What would happen if I turned it?" he asks, idly setting his fingers against the metal.

Stein's eyebrows go up. "I don't know. I suspect the effect would be similar to my own action, but no one else has ever asked before. Others seem to find it alarming." He smiles, lopsided and darkly amused. "I have _no_ idea why."

"Can I?"

Stein laughs. "Sure. Clockwise. It shouldn't be _able_ to turn the other way but it's best to not risk it."

Spirit cringes at the idea, almost retracts his request, but curiosity is getting the better of him. He steadies his grip, committing to the motion, and after triple-checking which way clockwise is, slowly turns the metal.

Stein convulses against him, his hands going tight against Spirit's skin, and groans hard against the weapon's skin. Spirit lets go instantly, reaches out to Stein's shoulder and face as panic floods through him. "Oh my god, Stein, Stein are you okay, oh my god what did I _do_ are you _okay_?"

Stein is speaking as fast as Spirit can panic, though, although his hands are still pressing flat against the weapon's back. "It's fine, I'm _fine_ you didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh my god what _happened_?"

"It -" Stein takes a deep breath, careful and controlled, and when he sighs the tension lining his face smoothes enough that Spirit can recognize the pleasure in his expression. The weapon has a moment of stunned realization that corresponds precisely with Stein's deliberately steady words. "It was _amazing_, Spirit, do it again."

"_What_?" Spirit hasn't - well. He _has_ seen Stein like this before, a handful of times in that first week, but not _regularly_. Usually the meister is somewhat controlled, maintains some sort of self-awareness, but now he is pressed against Spirit and _panting_ for breath and this is _not_ the way this usually goes, at least not while Spirit himself is still in a condition to observe rationally.

"That felt _fantastic_," Stein says again.

"Really?" Spirit reaches out, sets his fingers back where they were with as much care as if he is touching a bomb. "You're _sure_?"

Stein laughs, and the sound is relaxed and breathy and it is _weird_ to hear Stein laugh like a normal person. "_Yes_."

Stein's reaction isn't as violent the second time; either Spirit is expecting it or Stein is braced for it, but either way the meister is largely still. His fingers do shift involuntarily against Spirit's back, though, and he groans low and satisfied against the weapon.

"What does it _feel_ like?" Spirit has to ask. "I thought you said it just - jumbled your thoughts.

Stein takes a minute to collect himself before he answers. "It's - it's still resetting everything like it usually does, but -" He pauses, swallows. "It's - there's nothing else, for a minute, except the feel of your hand. There's just nothing at all in my head except for you and me for a moment and it's -"

"Amazing," Spirit finishes for him, and Stein smiles and hums again. "You make it sound orgasmic."

"It is," Stein answers instantly. "You should do this all the time."

Spirit laughs. "I'll make a habit of it."

"_Good_." Stein stretches so the muscles across his bare back pull tight for a moment before curling in again into a tighter loop around Spirit. "Keep touching my hair."

Spirit laughs, and does.


End file.
